


Yeah, I Said It

by Lliyk



Series: Frostburn [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Begging, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Dominance, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Music, Non-bending AU, Office AU, Ok I lied, POV Zuko (Avatar), Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Some Plot, Vaginal Sex, prompted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliyk/pseuds/Lliyk
Summary: Zuko can’t exactly remember when he started wanting more.He wants her — in his bed, in his house, on his arm, at all of his favorite spots in the city,his— and she’s content to keep him at arms length.Something in him shifts at that.The shift is a little startling, but it doesn’t stop him from fucking her like she likes when she shows up in his office after hours the next evening, or three days later in a hotel after dinner.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Frostburn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007067
Comments: 20
Kudos: 151





	Yeah, I Said It

**Author's Note:**

> for [anon](https://slpytea.tumblr.com/post/636751966946607104/), who requested _breeding kink_ in the same verse as [Lyk Dis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163724) and [Hard To Ignore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869693) (i think?!). 
> 
> for your reading pleasure: [Yeah, I Said It by Rihanna](https://open.spotify.com/track/7eDYNlBwRMeFOZHOZ95dZ1?si=Y65tQrkEQ7iBaNMlSAKGUA) on repeat. gods tier sex jam and an Appropriate Title, since i didn’t really have plans for this verse to actually continue in any direction. anyway: i’ve never written this kink before, so, uh. fingers crossed this makes the cut with decorum. lol.
> 
> beware! it’s 3am, i have not slept, and i’m _sure_ that there are typos. bye now. comments are fuel ♡.

* * *

Weeks somehow turn into months. Months in his office. In the conference room. The break room. The stairs, and the copy room. On the communal table in the open space between the cubicles. In his car and sometimes hers. Hotels, depending on where dinner is. There is only one place where Zuko hasn’t had Katara, and on the cusp between the third month and the fourth, he looks up and realizes how badly he wants to take her there; that casual isn’t working for him anymore, and that the sweet-tooth he’s got for soft laughter over lunch breaks and bright smiles during joint presentations is now a full blown set of cavities.

He looks up and realizes that he doesn’t even have her phone number. He wants her — in his bed, in his house, on his arm, at all of his favorite spots in the city, _his_ — and she’s content to keep him at arms length.

Something in him shifts at that.

The shift is a little startling, but it doesn’t stop him from fucking her like she likes when she shows up in his office after hours the next evening, or three days later in a hotel after dinner. 

It does make him pause before deciding to join her in the shower that night, though. He’s always let himself in, and he’s never once declined the invite. He shouldn’t be surprised that his hesitation makes her pause right back.

“Something wrong?”

Zuko stands from the bed, as bare as she, and steps into her space. He reaches out and drags his fingertips through the ends of her unbound curls over the curve of her lower back, just because he can. 

“Maybe.” 

Katara tilts her head at the touch. “Care to share with the class?”

“Is the class going to be receptive?” Zuko jokes.

“Sounds serious.” A flicker of concern passes over Katara’s bright blue gaze. She dances her fingers up his sternum. “You can tell me, if you want. I’ll listen.”

Zuko sucks in a breath. “I like this,” he says, flattening his palm over her spine, bringing her flush against him. “but this isn’t how I want you anymore.”

Katara stills in his hold, but she stays where he wants her. 

Such a good girl. Zuko sighs quietly; there really should be no surprise as to why he’s become so enamored, and yet here he is.

“Anymore?” 

“I want all of you,” Zuko confesses simply. He raises his other hand to tilt her chin up with the crook of his knuckle, make her look him in the eye. “Katara, I want you to be mine.”

Katara’s voice drops into a low, confused note. “Yours?” 

“ _Mine_.” Zuko affirms.

“Zuko,” Katara starts, but Zuko lowers his mouth to hers, a slow, tender kind of kiss that he’s never dared give her before. He slips the tip of his tongue past the seam of her lips, gentle, and only parting once he is rewarded with the softest little mewl of need that he’s ever gotten out of her.

“Just think about it,” he murmurs. He pulls away, but not before laying a dragonfly kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Just think about it, hm?”

Zuko steps around her and makes his way into the suite’s bathroom and starts the shower, not waiting for an answer. He doesn’t really need to. He’d taken many a note of how her hands had come to rest over his shoulders during that kiss; how her nails had scraped _delicately_ along his nape, and how her chest heaved just so. He’d noticed how she had tried to meld herself into him once he’d pulled away.

Zuko gets into the shower and lets the scalding spray soothe away the lingering burn of scratch marks and welts on his back, pulse pounding loudly in his ears. 

Katara will either join him or she won’t. He whispers to Agni, because he hopes that she does — because he thinks that she will, and he knows better than to think anything of her at all. It should not surprise him if he feels cool hands on him a moment or two later. 

It does.

Katara arrives at work late the next day, just in the middle of the meeting she’s been missing. She waltzes into the conference room heels first, with a tray of tall paper tea cups in hand and a lacy crimson number under her billowy white cardigan. 

She’s perfect. Zuko asks her to dinner right in front of his uncle and the entire senior staff.

The room stutters. Katara doesn't bat an eyelash.

“My place or yours?”

Zuko’s mouth pulls into a slow smirk as he accepts a cup of tea. He says nothing more; doesn’t have to. The meeting eventually proceeds, and they go their ways without so much as a word after, but Katara still leaves the floor with her hand in his once the clock strikes five.

She looks better than he’s ever imagined against his inky satin sheets, head thrown back and hair spilling in long, curling waves across his pillows. He wants her here every day, wants a ring on her finger and her last name changed, if he lets himself think about it too hard.

Now is good, though. 

Zuko pulls Katara’s hips to his, waits until her ankles are locked at his lower back before flipping them so that she’s in his lap. A pleased groan vibrates out of him when Katara plants her hands on his shoulders and rises on her knees without prompt. The feeling of her walls sinking over him is as divine as the first time, and he showers her filthy, possessive words of praise.

“This is where you belong,” he tells her between ragged breaths. She moans for him, and he fits his hands to her hips again. “yeah. Right here, right here in my bed, riding my cock until—”

“ _Zuko_.”

“—until you’re well and full of me, Katara.” Zuko growls, gasping. Her pace picks up; long, hard, heavy drops of her hips that make him hiss. “ _Fuck_ , _like that_ , Kat. That’s it. Such a good girl. _My_ good girl.”

Katara tilts her head as she whines his name again. Zuko attacks the exposed column of her neck, tight pleasure stemming from deep in his loins and curling up his spine. 

“I want—” Katara sinks down and undulates out of rhythm, into a different one. Zuko hisses and slides his hands under her thighs and raises her until only the tip of his cock remains. His mouth dries at the sight of his glistening length. Katara tries to squirm but he holds her up. Holds her still. “Zuko. Zuko, I _want_ —”

“Want what?” Zuko slowly lowers her onto him. “This?” He lifts her, voice dipping into a low, smoky octave at the feeling of her walls fluttering around his swollen head. “I don’t hear you saying _please_ , Katara.”

“Please.” White-hot pleasure streaks through his body at the word, at how immediately and desperately she says it. “Wanna fuck you, Zuko. Don’t wanna stop until you cum in me. Please,” he shudders, and Katara looks at him with blown ocean eyes. “ _please,_ please.”

Zuko groans, loud and long, and lets her drop onto him; lets her push him into the bed and ride him how she wants, because how can he say no when she begs so _nicely?_

“ _Fuck_. Katara,” he watches her with mounting need, gasping with sharp inhales at the sight of her above him; with the backdrop of his room around her and the dim lighting sweetening the supple curves of her breasts. He cups them, runs his thumbs over the hardened buds of her sensitive flesh. She bucks with a broken mewl, and Zuko echoes her with a continued string of curses. “fuck, _fuck,_ you’ve got it, Kat. That’s it. That’s it, that’s it, that’s it, _fuck_ , that’s it _—_ ”

Sparks dance across his vision, and he keeps his eyes on the vision above him through the haze of his impending orgasm. Brilliant blue trained on him, open mouthed and absolutely shaking. “Zuko,” she whispers vehemently, utters a litany of his name in time with the rock of her hips, “Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, _Zuko_ ,” and his lien on control crumbles into nothing. In a beat he surges up, slants his mouth over hers in a bruising, dominating kiss that has her whimpering into him. His arms snake around her waist, bringing her flush and keeping here there, just so he can shift and tilt and drive his hips upward, so he can hear—

“Please!” Katara tears her lips from the capture of his and chokes out the word. “ _Please_.”

Zuko fucks into her with selfish abandon, relentless and just as desperate as white specks his peripheral. Katara locks her arms around his neck and lets out another choked sound. The slick, wet, _perfect_ slide of her tightening walls around his steel-hard cock sends shivers of electricity through his gut.

Katara cries out in his hold. “Gonna _cum_ , Zuko. Gonna—”

“Oh, you’d _better_ cum,” Zuko bites out, breathless. “ _Katara_ ,” he warns; whines. “‘Tara. Cum for me, Kat. Now. _Now_ , baby. _Right now_.”

A guttural sound rips out of his throat, in harmonious tune with the outright scream of his name that pours from Katara’s mouth. Zuko growls into her neck as he slams his cock into her for the last time, balls tight, body stilling as he spills deep into her, cursing and cursing as Katara vibrates around him; as her hips buck with the explosion of her own release. She squeezes and contracts in endless waves, and he sinks his teeth into her shoulder at the sensation of her milking him of the last of his seed.

Katara drops against him with a soft moan, her fingers in his hair and her chest heaving against his. Zuko eases up on his embrace and drops his hands to her hips, slides them up and down her still quaking thighs in short, soothing motions.

The sight of the glistening mess between their joined bodies sets something possessive anew in his veins, and he swipes his thumb through it, just so he can run it over Katara’s bottom lip and kiss it away. She sighs into him, and he whispers a promise against the taste of her — him, him _on_ her, them, _this_.

“ _Mine_ ,” he rumbles. “you’ll see, sweetheart. You’ll see.”


End file.
